


Beau

by lunarlychallenged



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, I just really love Nick Masson, once and for all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: When your boss asked you to help print a manifesto for the Newsies, you could hardly say no.  You could hardly say no to Bill at all, really.





	Beau

When Bill knocked on your door after supper, you knew what your parents thought of it. Wasn’t it wonderful that a boy had come to call on you? Not just any boy - one made up of fine suits, sharp lines and corners, and a smile that spoke of old money and new opportunities.

You peered around the corner, looking at Bill while he spoke to your father.

“You could come inside,” your father said.

“No, thank you,” Bill said. He smiled warmly, making the words seem like less of a rejection. “That won’t be necessary. I just need to talk to Y/N for a minute.”

Your parents paused.

You saw Bill gear up to say the dreaded words - “it’s about work.” His mouth opened, his teeth flashed, and you waved frantically to catch his eye.

You shook your head, dramatically mouthing the words: Don’t. Not about work.

His mouth clicked shut, and he smiled again. It wasn’t that he was the most cheerful person; he knew that his smile dazzled. Even if your parents wanted to say no, how could they when they faced Bill Hearst’s smile?

“Alright,” your father said. “For a few minutes.”

You darted to the door before he had time to call you. “Thanks, Dad! I’ll be back in a minute.” You slammed the door behind you, grabbing Bill’s hand to drag him around to the side of the house. When you were away from the windows, you turned to him. “What is it?”

Bill adjusted the sleeve of his jacket. “What was that about?”

You huffed a sheepish smile. Your parents knew that you were a secretary, though they didn’t like it too much. They knew that you worked for the newspaper, though they thought you would do better for yourself at home, learning to be a good wife. They were more likely to let you step outside to talk to a potential suitor than to your boss.

If they knew he was your boss, they may have let you go outside in the hopes that he would fall madly in love with you through prolonged exposure. They would have sent you to work with a new job: to woo Bill Hearst. It would have been unbearable for them to tell you to loudly do something that you had been quietly attempting since you started at the paper a year ago.

“They’re flexible with boyfriends,” you said lightly. “Not bosses.”

He laughed. “So you and I are courting right now?”

“Don’t worry. This will be the best five minute courtship you’ve ever had,” you promised.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he said. His smile, pure Bill, flashed for a second before it shifted into something sappier. It wasn’t him at all, but you melted a little all the same. “Now, to the serious business.”

“More serious than usual?” Your eyebrows rose, intrigued.

He took a step closer, leaning in so his mouth hovered near your ear. He must have been the perfect picture of a suitor, whispering loving words to somebody who loved him.

“I’m printing the manifesto for the Newsboy Strike.”

You smiled, a bashful and delighted young lover. “Does your dad know?”

“Absolutely not,” he said sweetly. “We’re doing it in the middle of the night, in one of Pulitzer’s abandoned printing presses.”

“We?”

“Me. Katherine Pulitzer. Darcy. The newsboys. You,” he said carefully. “If you’ll help.”

“What do you need me for?” This wasn't a part of your job. You handled paperwork for him. You scheduled his meetings. You listened to him rant about his father, his coworkers, the front page stories that were not the most important stories. You picked where to order his lunch based on his mood. You wrote him notes when he looked bored to tears, so he could laugh at your words and delight in drafting his own. You did not rebel against the company. Not usually, anyway.

“Distribution,” he said. His eyes were solemn when he pulled back a little. “We need these to get all over the city. We have the manpower, but we could use your brainpower.”

You bit your lip, thinking. “When?”

“Midnight.”

You grinned at him when he took a step back, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. “You’re kidding me, right? I can’t go out at midnight.”

“If you can get out of the house, I’ll be waiting at the end of the street at 11:45,” he said. You looked at him, surprised, but he was speaking in earnest. “I’ll drive you. I need you there, Y/N.”

At the door, he kissed you on the cheek before leaving with a soft smile.

Your mother was walking on air when you went inside. You weren’t much better.

 

 

Your eyes were closed while you crept down the stairs. It was dark, and you knew that your parents were in bed, but you still found yourself holding your breath. If you weren’t looking, it was easier to remember what sounds would give you away.

Skip the sixth stair; it creaks.

There’s a loose floorboard by the dining room table, and it will groan if you step near it.

The front door is only shut all the way if it clicks. It’s loud, so your parents might wake up. You’ll have to run to the car so you can get away before they realize you’re gone.

Bill beamed at you when you got to his car. “You made it.”

“A little underdressed, apparently,” you said pointedly.

He grinned sheepishly at his suit. “It’s still work, even if I don’t get paid.”

When you got to the meeting place, Bill walked in confidently. He shook hands with the Newsies, eyes glinting with a dangerous pleasure. 

At moments like this, Bill looked indestructible. Incorruptible. Untouchable. Even while he planned to unhinge a way of doing business, he looked like he was doing nothing more than skimming the morning paper on the way to work. He turned to the corner where you stood, waving you over to a group of boys.

“Y/N,” he said to them, “will tell you where to go. When to go there.” He squeezed your arm, making you feel like you were untouchable too.

You turned to him before he could leave. “Bill?”

He hummed to show he was listening.

“Don’t get caught.”

He looked at you, surprised. “I should think that you’re more at risk than I am.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You have more to lose.”

“That’s why I asked you to come. If you’re here, I won’t lose anything.” He smiled, not the sappy way he did earlier, but softer than usual. “Welcome to the revolution.”

 

 

It was five in the morning, and you hadn’t slept a wink. You were leaning against the hood of Bill’s car, watching the Newsies spread the news. He was laying against the car, hat over his face to cover his closed eyes.

“I should get home,” you sighed. “Before my parents realize I’m gone.”

He sat up and yawned, lips curling into a smile periodically. It was as though the joy from the previous night was infecting the new day. “What happens if you don’t go home?”

“I don’t know.” You had never sneaked out before, so you had no idea what the punishment would be. “Why?”

“We could stay here,” he said. “I could take you out for breakfast before work.”

You smiled, but it faded a little when you realized he was serious. “Why?”

Bill hoisted himself up so he was sitting on the hood. “It follows the facade, right? You going out for breakfast with your boss.”

“That was so I could talk to you outside,” you pointed out. “That was a five minute courtship. You don’t have to be my full time beau.”

“Why did you come with me last night?”

Your brow furrowed. “Because you asked, Bill.”

“So?” He raised one exquisite eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you said no.”

“But why would I have said no?” You frowned at him. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he know the effect he had on people; that you would have gone anywhere he asked? “You asked.”

“Will you go out for breakfast with me?” His eyes were as bright as they had been in the basement, when he feverishly worked on the typesetting. “I’m asking, Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because you came,” he said. “I needed you, and you came.”

You had already given in. You hadn’t said it aloud yet, but you knew you’d be going with him. “And now it’s over with. You don’t need me now.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. A slow, warm smile spread across his face. “I think I might.” He walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for you. “Please? I’ll be the best full time beau you’ve ever had.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you said. 

You got in the car.


End file.
